


T*ts

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto goes for a run.





	T*ts

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Alt. summary: Gladio embraces his inner Regina George.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s nothing like a brisk jog in the evening through the warm summer air. It _should_ be dark out, but the bustling glow of the city lights up more than the stars do, and it makes for a pretty backdrop. Prompto sticks to a trail by the river, somewhat tucked away from the busier crowds. He doesn’t technically _need_ to run daily anymore, but it’s a habit he’s come to enjoy. It helps that Noctis got him an awesome music player for his birthday, so now he gets great quality tunes while he exercises.

This late, there’s only a few other people out along the backwater path. Some of them Prompto recognizes, just from this routine, but most he doesn’t, and few look up at him. He pauses once to pet an old woman’s adorable dog. Then he spots a beefcake in the distance wearing a crop-top, which catches his eye just by virtue of being something new. Even so far apart that he can’t make out any distinctive features, he can tell the man’s built like an upside down triangle—the kind of figure that usually wears two-small tanks and badass jackets. The closer he gets, the more he can see the open window of chiseled abs. 

Then he gets close enough to notice the handsome face under the backwards ball cap, and Prompto nearly trips over his own feet. He slows to an unsteady halt, not even jogging in place like he usual does. 

Gladiolus reaches him and dons a wolfish grin that has Prompto blushing. He can’t believe he just got caught ogling Gladiolus’ stomach. Gladiolus points to his ears, and Prompto takes the hint and takes out his ear buds, pocketing them while Gladiolus grunts, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Prompto squeaks, and then, because he can’t _not_, “What’re you wearing?”

Gladiolus glances down at his shirt like he’d forgotten anything at all was out of the ordinary. But Prompto’s seen him dozens of times, and he’s never worn anything like that before. The top part looks like a regular T-shirt, just a plain white thing, except that it’s cut off right under his broad pecs. Prompto can see the very bottom of them, bulging out like the impressive, enormous eye-candy they are. The rest of Gladiolus’ washboard midsection is completely exposed. He can see every line and curve of Gladiolus’ impressive six-pack, and even the faint dusting of dark hair above his waistband. 

Gladiolus shrugs and rubs the back of his head. He explains, “Iris was mad at me. She cut up a bunch of my shirts. I was pissed at first, but... at this time of year, the breeze is actually kinda nice. And, I mean, I’m not just gonna throw out half my wardrobe over it...” He looks up and maybe notices Prompto looking down. Prompto _tries_ to look at Gladiolus’ face, he really does, but Gladiolus’ body is just too... _interesting._ Prompto’s never seen so much of his tattoo before. He adds, “And this way I get to show off my sweet bod.”

Prompto laughs, but way too nervously. He forces his eyes up to Gladiolus’ knowing smirk. Prompto’s cheeks are definitely getting warmer. Gladiolus prods, “It’s a cool look, right? Maybe you should rock it.”

Prompto splutters, “No way!”

“Why not? You wear shit that’s practically painted on anyway. You’d look good in some cut outs.”

That sounds suspiciously like a flirtations compliment. Prompto’s burning up. He does wear clothes that fit him now, because he _can_—he finally has the body he’s always wanted. But he’s not ready to show off _that_ much. His stomach still has some excess flab. And he’s nowhere near a six-pack. He admires Gladiolus’ confidence, though. In a way, it just makes Gladiolus even more attractive. 

Trying to change the subject, Prompto asks, “Uh... so why’d Iris get mad at you?”

Gladiolus draws up to his full height. His hands land on his hips, chest straightening, highlighting, once again, how crazy built he is. His biceps look huge. He answers through a slick grin, “I wouldn’t give her your number. ’Said there was no way she was gonna get you before I did.”

Prompto’s mouth falls open. Gladiolus winks, then lifts his arms and moves around Prompto, resuming his jog. Prompto’s too paralyzed to stop him.

Fortunately, Prompto regains himself in time to turn around and watch Gladiolus’ sexy ass flex off into the distance.


End file.
